Rebirth - To love or Hate the Alpha

Ronan's POV

Back at the pack's territory, the tension hung thick, unspoken but tangible. Every glance, every whispered word, carried the weight of judgment. I could feel it even before I entered the main hall, where the others were gathered. The moment I stepped inside, their murmurs fell silent, replaced by a heavy, expectant hush.

Lyra was the first to break it. My younger sister stood near the center of the room, her arms crossed, her eyes sharp and accusing. She was the one person I had hoped wouldn't voice what everyone else was thinking, but Lyra had never been one to hold her tongue.

"You shouldn't have gone after him alone," she said, her voice steady but laced with anger.

I froze. Her words hit harder than I expected. "Elian's death wasn't your fault?" she asked, but the question was rhetorical, and her tone cut like a blade.

I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to snap back. "I did what I thought was right," I said, my voice low.

"Did you?" Lyra stepped closer, her dark eyes boring into mine. "Because it doesn't seem like it. You didn't think about the pack. About the consequences. And now—" She gestured to the wolves gathered around, "—now, they're wondering if you're fit to lead."

Her words stung because they echoed the doubts already gnawing at me. I knew what they were all thinking: A true Alpha would have protected his own.

From the corner of the room, Cassian's voice cut through the silence. "She's not wrong, you know."

I turned to face him, my jaw tightening. Cassian leaned against the far wall, his arms folded, a smirk playing on his lips. He had always been a thorn in my side, but now, he seemed to revel in the chaos.

"You were reckless, Ronan," he said, his tone almost mocking. "And now the pack is paying for it. An Alpha who can't protect his allies... well, let's just say it doesn't inspire confidence."

The room stirred, the tension thickening as his words took root. Cassian had always been ambitious, but now, he saw an opportunity to challenge me, to sow doubt in my leadership.

I stepped forward, meeting his gaze. "You think you could do better, Cassian?"

His smirk widened. "I think the pack deserves a leader who doesn't let his emotions cloud his judgment."

My vision blurred with anger, but before I could respond, Lyra stepped between us. "Enough," she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding. She looked at Cassian first. "This isn't the time to tear each other apart." Then she turned to me. "But he's not wrong. You need to fix this, Ronan. Before it's too late."

Her words hung in the air like a challenge. I looked around the room, at the faces of my packmates—some angry, some uncertain, some avoiding my gaze altogether. Elian's death had shaken them, and I could feel the cracks forming beneath us.

Later that night, as I sat alone in my quarters, the weight of everything pressed down on me. The rain continued to batter the windows, a relentless reminder of the storm outside and within.

I thought of Elian, of his quiet strength and the way he had believed in me when no one else did. His death wasn't just a loss—it was a reminder of my failure. But I couldn't let his memory be tarnished by my mistakes.

Lyra's words echoed in my mind. "You need to fix this."

She was right. The pack needed a leader, someone who could hold them together in the face of adversity. And Cassian... he was waiting for me to stumble again, ready to take everything I had built.

I donned my coat and marched into the fury of the storm. Before many moments passed, the rain soaked me to the skin, but that was of no concern. Above was the dark forest, shadows deeper than ever, as if somehow in knowing of my intent. My path was clear even though I stumbled now, step by step.

In the woods affectedly lay Morrigan's dwelling, entangled among gnarled trees and curling mist. This was not a place to be found lightly by anyone. It became colder with every step I took closer, an unnatural chill pricking my skin.

The moment I reached the entrance, lanterns hung from gnarled branches that sprung to life. Morrigan was ready for me.

The creak of the door was followed by the emergence of the hag clothed in black, her robes drifting about her like so much smoke. Her sharp glances fell on me, seeing past the surface of my resolve and observing the desperation underneath.

"You've made up your mind," she said, her voice smooth as well as chilling as the mist.

I nodded, my throat dry. "I won't hesitate any longer. I want to bring Elian back."

Morrigan tilted her head, an unsettling smile curling her lips. "Are you willing to pay the price?"

"Yes," I said firmly, though my voice faltered. "Whatever it takes."

She chuckled softly, the sound hollow as the wind. "Oh, Ronan. You speak of cost, but do you understand the true weight of what you're asking?"

"I don't care," I snapped, my frustration welling over. "The pack is falling apart, and I can't do this without him. Bring him back."

She became serious. "Very well. But know this: he will come back, but each time he'll return with a little less of himself as the Elian you knew, and each time there will be more difficulty in this life with each return. There shall be penalties, Ronan-with ones you cannot foresee."

I hesitated, her warning clawing at the edges of my resolve. But then I thought of Elian-of his gentle smile, his quiet strength, the way he had touched my life and soul so completely.

"I understand," I said, though the words felt heavy. "Do it."

Morrigan studied me for a long moment before nodding. "Then prepare yourself. This path is not one you can turn back from."

She turned and disappeared into the shadows of her dwelling, leaving me alone in the storm. My heart pounded as the reality of my choice settled over me. There was no turning back. I had set something into motion, and whatever came next, I would face it.